


Fierceness Thy Name is Freyja

by FreyjaFjordrider



Category: Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7941511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyjaFjordrider/pseuds/FreyjaFjordrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>VANAHEIM: Inside the palace of Njord, a typical day in the life of Vanir children who don't know they're gods yet. Freyr must learn his place in the world, while Freyja must work on her manners for reasons she can't yet comprehend...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The effervescent blue sky of Vanaheim sent sunlight cascading through the nursery. Freyr rolled over, waking his giggling sister, who was pretending to sleep. He stifled three yawns in a row.  

"Why does it always have to be so bright here?” he moaned. “Have you learned how to make it rain yet?” 

Freyja noticed the sarcasm in his voice and gave him a playful nudge. “Why, of course I have, brother!” she retorted, leaping out of the bed and landing on her feet. “Freyr, don’t you remember that it rained eight days ago? Tomorrow perhaps, if I feel like it.” 

Freyr did not feel like doing much of anything right now, much less roughhousing. He looked at his active sister as she assumed a battle stance. 

“Oh, no, that means she is going to jump on the bed,” Freyr assumed. He pressed his face into his pillow.   

Freyja called, “One, two, four…” as she jumped, landing squarely on top of his back, and therefore pinning him under the covers. Freyr tapped out, and she rolled off of him. The waves under the mattress calmed. 

“You didn’t say three,” he groaned. 

Freyja fixed her sky-blue eyes on her brother before speaking. “I gave you plenty of warning to anticipate my moves. You could have shielded yourself more, for Frigg’s sake! That’s why I brought in the decorative pillows!” 

Freyr stared down at the fortress of floral prints surrounding him. He had not noticed them there before. Freyja laughed, snickering at him. She flipped three of these at him, and he covered himself with them, shamefully. 

Not only was Freyja top of her class in magical arts, but she also knew how to pack a mean wallop. Freyr had the bruises to prove it. His sister could heal them, if she felt in the mood to do so. 

“It is custom for families to take reverie together in Vanaheim,” she went on, as Freyr still wiped his eyes. His sister bounded from the bed and stood next to the large oak door. She stared across the room, out the large bay window, when a knock came at the door. Four gentle taps. 

“Njord!” she flung the door open, hugging her father passionately. 

“Good morning, Freyja! How was your rest?” Freyja smiled at her father, who shared her same strong physique. Her long golden-blonde hair whipped back and forth. Njord nodded knowingly, guessing Freyja didn’t sleep at all, again. 

Meanwhile, Freyr rolled over. 

“M-morning, Father,” he said plaintively. Freyja blew a raspberry at him, calling him a sleepyhead. 

Freyja shook her head at her brother, flashing an icy stare at him. “Downright disrespectful,” she told him. “Not to give the great Njord his due attention. Where were we? Yes, as you were saying, Father?” 

Njord just laughed as his daughter. “I interrupt this sibling rivalry to bring you two an urgent message. Frigg has made a special breakfast for you two…” he started to say, but before he could finish, Freyja had woken up half the corridor with her own rousing vocals. “Ho-lo hojotoho!” she sang. Trouble was, she kept singing until someone followed her downstairs, oozing drowsiness. 

“The Dawn Patrol again?” the blurry-eyed lad asked. 

“Just Freyja,” assured another female voice, soothingly. 

“Close enough,” the rousted elf moaned. “At least there’s food. The girl staying three doors down from me _never_ misses a meal!” 

Freyja, the hungry maiden was already well ahead, bounding down the linden-wood stairs three at a time. 

Freyr took a lot longer to get ready in the morning. 

Rather wishing to stay in deep forest, he squinted at his father, trying to focus. “Last one to Asgard is a scrambled egg?” the child asked.                    

“No need to travel there. Frigg has come here, to Vanaheim,” his father replied. Njord shook his head. “I wouldn’t say “rotten” either. The eggs are fresh from our fertile realm.” Freyr sighed, wishing to speak next. 

“May I have five more minutes?” the boy child insisted. His father obliged.   

The sea deity sat calmly on the bed with his son, as he looked over his form. Freyr’s leg had been bruised. Apparently, Freyja had been practicing combat maneuvers in the night as her brother slept, or else water beds really made her excited. 

Freyr leaned back, turning away from Njord slightly, not wishing to be examined. He closed his eyes to make the point clear to his father. 

Timidly, Freyr opened his mouth. “I need to have a talk with you,” the son said in earnest. Njord’s pale blue eyes sharpened, inspiring his son. “Why does Freyja seem to get all the attention around here?” 

Deep in thought, Njord stared out the window, at the rolling fields and distant sea. “Though you two are twins, you express yourselves in different ways.  While Freyja is very boisterous and loud - look out Valkyries! - you take on a lot after me. I can offer council in fights, but don’t usually start them.” 

“Neither do I,” Freyr replied. “I don’t want to get involved half the time.” 

“And there is nothing wrong with that,” the peaceful sea god chuckled. 

“But Freyja is so outgoing and I’m not,” Njord’s son retorted, almost feeling sorry for himself. 

Njord nodded, smiling weakly. “Just because you have a more peaceful demeanor than she does, this is not a bad thing,” his father told him. “Do I ever get involved in wars? No. I offer council and wisdom, but I do not fight. You can do the same thing, and follow my path of logic, while still holding a valuable position within the Vanir court.” Freyr sighed in resignation. Like father, like son. 

Njord told him to remain thankful for his talents, despite his sister. Passion manifested itself in different ways in Vanaheim. There were the obviously, ever-fertile fields, the evergreen forests, the roaring sea. Freyr wanted most of all to just be out in nature. At least in his formative years, he did not interact much with the other Vanir. He would rather interact with the Alfar, the nature spirits who protected the well-being of the realm. He knew that without them, Vanaheim would be nothing. Everything was connected in Vanaheim. It needed his attention, his involvement. 

The window could turn into a sliding glass door, which led out to a balcony, where one could see for miles. There were thick forests below them, and Freyr loved to come out and sit on that porch. Unlike Freyja, he was quite shy, but enjoyed the more subtle aspects of life as a Vanir, like watching things grow. He enjoyed doing this as a young child, where most children would find more fun in action. 

For instance, after breakfast, Freyja could go prospecting for gold in the river with her bare hands for hours on end. In contrast, Freyr could sit on the riverbank for hours, feeling the warm sun on his face, in quiet contemplation while Freyja splashed about noisily. She often piled precious stones and gold nuggets near where he sat. 

Freyja appreciated growing things, but not as much as Freyr. Freyr appreciated fine jewelry and rich fabrics, but did not go out of his way to seek them. These differences were tolerated greatly amongst the other Vanir, but when it came to councils with the Aesir, each stood out drastically. 

Freyja often did her own thing while Freyr meditated. She respected her brother’s need for quiet time, though there would come times when Freyja would want to pull him in to that theoretical river with her. In these instances, she would win, but he did not share the same appreciation for gold and jewels she had. 

More often than not, they would meet at sunset and discuss the day. Both were in a relatively calm mood then, and seemed more open to each other’s stories and insights. It would take many years for the gap in interests and appreciations to lessen between them, but they had time on their side. 

Most Vanir liked the finer things in life, but Freyr cherished a different kind of gift. For his first birthday, his mother had given Freyr a seed to plant. With this, he started his own garden. This he loved more than the dagger Odin had given him. 

Lord Njord strode over to the window, opening it to let the fresh air into the room. Freyr breathed deeply, suddenly not wanting breakfast. “Freyja can have her fill,” he said, “and draw even more attention to herself and all those of Asgard.” 

“Enjoy your meal,” Njord bade his son farewell, and headed downstairs into the feasting hall. His daughter had promptly seated herself, staring at Njord over a mountain of food. 

Her mother looked at her father with concern. “She’s already requested seconds,” Frigg shook her head as Freyja tore into her waffles and sausages. Belching, she shook her father’s hand, his and hers now stuck together due to the sheer amount of syrup she was fondling.   

Frigg did not appreciate the appreciative belch, however. She shook her stately head, waiting for her mouth to be empty before speaking. 

“Watch your manners, Freyja, in case other Asgardians are watching,” she chided. Freyja’s mouth was still full as she tried to respond. Frigg waved her hand. “Finish that, then speak.” 

A minute later, Freyja had finally swallowed her food. “Lady Frigg, you make the best waffles and sausages, Mother dearest.”  She dipped her hands in a small basin of lavender water in an attempt to rinse them off. This took some time, as the other Vanir watched her scrub wads of leaves together in an effort to not gross out her mother. 

Frigg was one of the Aesir, one of the Asgardians, here to teach Freyja the prim and proper way to live a courtly life. Njord was lax with his children on these matters, insisting that the Vanir code of morals remain in full effect. That is to say, there weren’t many morals in Vanaheim. I mean, after all, Freyja and Freyr slept together in the same bed, for starters. This nagged on Frigg, as Frigg presided over marriage and fidelity, but there was little she could do about it. Both children were living in Vanaheim, and so she had to resign to Vanaheim’s freewheeling lifestyle. She feared the two would want to marry someday. 

Njord’s daughter rinsed off her face next, to everyone’s amusement, by dunking her face in the same basin where she had just rinsed her hands moments earlier. 

“Decent, but you missed a spot of cream on your upper lip,” her mother nagged. 

Frigg ate daintily, but did not have much problem with how well her daughter was treated here. She preferred to eat on golden platters, where most others were satisfied with silver. Her mother also loved how well Freyja studied the magical arts. She urged her to keep studying, for she wanted to be the most recognized name in the Nine Worlds when it came to spellcraft. 

Freyja knew that if she ever wanted to study magic with Frigg, she would have to adapt to the customs of the Aesir, including their use of manners. This little difference in opinion between Freyja and her mother frustrated her. Frigg coudl teach her many things, but she wasn’t sure she really wanted to learn the customs of the Aesir in exchange. She knew that she would, at some point, have to meet Odin, and she was not looking forward to that day.  More than anything, she wanted to put him in his place. 

Several minutes passed by in silence. Njord looked over at his daughter. “Three plates and done? Darn. I expected you to eat four.” Frigg told him to be quiet in the most polite way possible. Frigg wanted to take Freyja and Freyr to Asgard to meet up with Odin for… something. The mere mention of the name Odin made both of them wary. Freyja less so, but she still trembled at the mention of the Asgardian authority figure. 

Freyja still pushed her plate away at the mention of Odin’s name. Frigg tried to comfort her, but instead she had her sights set on the exit doors. If Odin was really going to visit, she had to decide on what to wear! Something flashy, something that would get noticed. 


	2. Chapter 2

After the meal, Njord took his daughter closer to the coast, where he showed her his latest project.

“The ship is upside-down,” Freyja stated, laughing at him. “How is anyone going to sit in this?”

“I’ll turn it right-side-up when it’s done, goofball.” Njord placed a very tan arm around his daughter’s waist. “By tomorrow, it should be finished. Just adding some special touches,” he prodded his daughter’s curiosity. Was that a lump of gold in her father’s hands? He kneaded it like a loaf of bread.

“I am trying to shape this right,” he complained. “It’s not working.”

“Father, your hands have grown weary. I’ll go fetch a tool for you.” The child ran off after her father nodded. “That’s Freyja. She goes wherever the wind takes her.” Sighing, Njord crumpled to the grass.

Freyja could not stop thinking about how her father had acquired such a large piece of gold, or where she could go to get the same sort of thing. These happy thoughts caused her to skip through the grass, whistling to herself as she went along.

The adventuresome child tromped through the meadowlands and over sand dunes until she encountered firmer, wetter sand. She breathed in the ocean air while her feet pawed through the sand. Freyr had thought of her as some sort of a living metal detector. She was also proving herself in lithomancy, drawing energy from stone and metal where others saw inanimate objects in her hands. To her, everything had a use.

She wanted to find gold, but needed to find tools. She looked down at shells the sea had discarded, bird feathers, and loose grey stones. Unless she wanted to pound the gold in place, in its current form, none of the items she saw were useful to her at the task at hand, and she stilled.

This was odd, Freyja thought. The sea always provided for the Vanir… then she remembered that Njord was not feeling well. She had to find what she needed erself. Maybe even fight for it.

She stared out to sea, hoping that the Lady Rán would relinquish something she could use. Truth was, it was hard for Rán the Siren to reach Vanaheim, since the water was too warm and bright there for her most of the time. It was Njord who provided the bounty for these Vanir seas, though he was out of his element at the moment. An interesting predicament for Freyja, indeed.

She walked closer to the waterline, pacing back and forth for a few long moments before stepping into the surf. It was tricky to see much down there because the seafoam was so thick. She stood knee deep, watching the waves until they revealed the seabed to her.

The maiden was distracted by shiny objects and sharp objects alike. She did see something promising about ten feet ahead of her. She caught a glimpse of some water-logged driftwood, maybe part of a discarded raft.

Freyja sat down in the surf, reading the waves carefully, as her father had taught her to do. She had to stay as still as possible. The task required patience, but Freyja did not have as much time as she would have liked.

“Someone tried to sail to Vanaheim,” she guessed out loud, hoping that Rán was not involved in the raft’s abandonment.

In her bare feet, she trod cautiously along, until she detected the wood with her big toe. She gave no thought to the clothes she wore, and plunged in to retrieve it. At the first opportunity, she lunged forward and pulled with all her strength.

She spread both hands out wide once her forearms struck bottom, then heaved the log upwards, first saying a silent prayer that she hoped Rán had not claimed it. Hearing no response from the sea, she hoisted the driftwood out of the water and flung it towards shore.

The force of her exertion threw her backwards, and she landed back in the water. Her back clung to a mat of weeds.

“Sorry,” she told them, as she apologized for having to jerk herself away from them to move on. “I mean no disrespect, but I really need to get going to help Lord Njord.” The seaweed agreed and waved back at her.

After the log was on land, she took a moment to establish a mental link with her father.

_Njord, stay with me! Don’t give up now and collapse five miles from your source of strength!_

Now not whistling, Freyja picked up one of the largest seashells she could find and carried it, along with the absurdly heavy log, all the way back to where Njord sat.

Her father had closed his eyes, and only opened them slightly when his daughter tickled him.

The smell of her clothing stirred him. She dripped saltwater on him, which woke him up fully. “The state of my realm?” he asked, sniffing.

“You have become very strong indeed,” her father added, as she let go of the log she had been carrying, and it thudded loudly on the grass.

“I am more interested in the state of you,” she replied. She placed a damp hand on her father’s back. “You’re feeling better than you think. Your domain is still as warm and bright as I remember it.” Njord sighed in relief. He had set the gold down in the field, and it was near Freyja’s feet.

Njord’s eyes still showed exhaustion. His daughter smiled at him to try and liven them.  “I even carried it without magic, to show you my devotion,” she huffed, nearly stumbling and falling herself, now relieved of her burden.

“Why did you do that?” he asked sleepily. Freyja chuckled, then realized he had not paid attention to her story. A dry patch of skin began to form in front of her eyes. Her expression became serious.

“I’m not supposed to sunburn in Vanaheim,” he complained.

“I don’t think that’s what is going on,” his daughter analyzed. “Lack of water can still affect a sea god.” Njord was shartled at this theory.

“I know you want to finish your ship, but you need to get back to the sea, at least for a little bit. You’ve worked so hard here that you’ve forgotten your own basic needs.”

“Ouch,” he winced as he tried to shift positions.

“I can teleport you…” Freyja started to say.

“Can you do that, even if I am in a weakened state?” Njord asked, his eyes now glazing over.

“It’s now or never,” Freyja asserted. She told her father to lie down in the grass, as she placed the seashell on his stomach, still nearly full of water. “Hold on to it,” she advised. “Use it as an anchor.”

“Freyja...” her father protested. “This could drain you.”

“You could dissipate or dissolve into foam, whatever dehydrated Vanir do. If it drains me, I don’t care.” the maiden professed. “If you were completely drained of power, who would take care of the sea? Which is worse?” the child inquired. Njord relented.

Laying moist hands around her father’s neck, the child muttered some ancient words, and he was encased within a net of golden light. The energy to weave the spell extended itself from her own golden aura, which she then used to levitate her father into the air.

Her precious cargo floated at arm’s length in front of her as she walked. She guided it with her mind, all the way back to the sea.

She ran down the beach to the water’s edge. Hastily, she entered the surf to find the netting was unraveling. She tried to chase after the shielded sea god, but the water resistance proved difficult going for her.

The net dissipated, and Njord fell into the water. Freyja could barely touch bottom, yet she slashed her way through it until she reached the sinking form of her father. Her arm collided with his stomach, and he let out a grunt.

“Are you all right?” his daughter asked, surprised she could speak underwater. Her father _was_ the god of the sea, but she did not know she had that ability.

“Thank you Freyja! That was actually rather comfortable,” the sea god replied, now much calmer.

“Feeling even better now?” she asked. Njord nodded, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes. Several teardrops fell through the water, and she saw something else glittering on the ocean floor. She swore it wasn’t there before.

She broke the surface and wiped her eyes, not believing what she had just seen resting down there.  

She dove under and looked at it. “Did I just do that?” she wondered, looking at the brightness several times before her father responded.

“You spilled tears of joy, and by Vanaheim, they’ve become pure gold!”

Njord was both amazed and dumbfounded, yet he was still recovering from his labors. Freyja urged him to stay under.

“Don’t surface for a little while, until sunset, maybe. I’m just glad you’re on the mend.” In relief, more teardrops fell from her face. One landed in her hand, and she stared down at it. Pure gold. Njord was not joking.

Freyja picked up another of the golden nuggets. Power surged through her, and she offered to stay the night in the sea, that she did not require rest inside the palace this evening. She used the extra strength from the gold to make a shield around her father, which remained around him as he slept.

Njord cracked a cautious smile. “If the Asgardians find out about your new powers, this could mean war,” he warned.

Freyja dismissed this. “You think gold can cause war?” she asked. Njord did not answer.

 “I wonder what would come out of you if you were actually sad or angry instead of blithe?” The child did not know.

“I hope I never have to find out,” Njord assured her.

“… it’s our secret,” Freyja insisted.

“The water-breathing or the golden tears?” Njord teased.

Freyja squeezed his hand as they drifted, also holding onto another lump of gold.

“Your sense of humor is returning,” she sighed, smiling. “You _must_ be feeling better!”

With this, Njord curled up in a mass of seaweed and let his fatigue take him into slumber.

His daughter never ceased to amaze him. Neither of them knew she had the power to make gold from tears until today.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freyr meets his sister on the Vanaheim coast next morning. He teaches her that there are gentler aspects to life as an aspiring goddess, but she manages to still battle him at every possible turn.

Freyja surfaced after the sun had gone down, lying on her back underneath a full moon. She held tightly to four gold nuggets. She saw even more curious objects drifting around her that did not appear to be any sea creature. Taking one of these as well, she left her father’s dominion as he lie fast asleep.  
She showed the tannish object to her brother, who met her on the beach before dawn. “I’ve been looking all over for you, and you missed dinner. So unusual.”  
“I foraged for my own dinner this evening,” she lied. Freyr looked at the gold suspiciously, knowing perfectly well what she had been up to. He pushed the heavy nuggets out of the way as Freyja lay the mystery item in his hand. It still felt warm to the touch.

His expression changed from annoyance to awe.

“Amber,” he mouthed, his eyes open wide. “You realize this is extremely rare in Vanaheim? I’ve never seen it here!” Freyja shook her head, asking him to explain. “It used to be alive, and some say its essence is still trapped inside! Amber is made from long-dead trees, Freyja. Have you ever seen a tree die in Vanaheim?”

She wasn’t sure how to respond. She had seen her brother grow many things in his “garden” which was now an enormous forest, but could not recall seeing anything die. “The soil of Vanaheim is very fertile. Even I can see that.” Freyr grinned.

“Not all realms are as fortunate as ours. In most of those, fertility is brought about by decomposition. Midgard for instance, is one such world. However, in Vanaheim, we have a surplus of Mana, Aether, magical Essence. Call it what you will, but we can turn it into whatever we please!”

“Midgard?” Freyr wrinkled his nose.

“I thought you knew about the World Tree. Alas, there are lower worlds than our own,” Freyja said sadly. Freyr concentrated, pulling a ball of green Essence from the nearby field, placing it into her hands.  
“World Tree? You’re telling me that we are all living inside one great big… that doesn’t make sense!” He tried to pull one out of Freyja’s playbook and speak literally.

“You at least have heard of Asgard,” she told him. “That’s another wold all together, but connected to ours.”  
Her brother nodded. “Frigg is so sweet. She’s a great mother,” he replied.

“Awww,” she responded. In her hands, the energy burst all over her brother. He asked how she knew of these other, lower worlds. She kept her inner thoughts from him, that in reality, she had thought of Frigg as very strict. She was the queen of Asgard and demanded respect, but Freyja did not know she had a soft interior underneath her regal appearance.

Freyr had thought of Odin as a warmonger, too, so there was mutual misunderstanding between the Aesir and the Vanir, at least as far as these Vanir children saw it.

“Women are entitled to secrets,” she replied coyly, trying to channel the same energy from the field. Energy surged through her, up through the roots of her anchored feet… but lightning flashed in the sky instead. “Oops!” she called to her brother.

“Hmmm,” Freyr contemplated. “Quite aggressive.” He pulled more green Essence. “Settle down, sister… Think Ingwaz, not Fehu, for once. This is not flash-in-the-pan magic.”  
“Why not use Fehu? Why would Ingwaz work better?” Freyja asked, confused, and trying to pronounce it slowly like her brother did.

“Fehu is our master rune, but also one of the forces of fertility I spoke of earlier,” Freyr lectured. “Ingwaz is a slow-motion version of that, more or less. It’s both long-acting and long-lasting. Think long-term project versus short-term venture.”

In these early years, Freyja seldom thought of the importance of long-term strategies. This was the trouble with Freyja. She was a speed demon. Her actions were swift, and her mind stayed in seventh gear most of the time.   
“Focus on the feeling you get when in contact with the green Essence. Try again, sister!”

She took a deep breath and reached her hands out again. A feeling of peace washed over her, and she didn’t know how to react at all. She sat down on the grass in a trance. Freyr slowly added more and more Essence, until Freyja had been wrapped in a cocoon of green light.

“Very different,” she remarked, as her thought processes changed. Instead of attacking her brother, she gave him a hug. She had no desire to use weapons or show any sort of aggression. This feeling had grown foreign to her. She remembered at that instant that each had their own place. There was a time for bright and flashy spectacle, but also a time for reflection. Both were just as important here. Inspired, she tried an experiment.  
At this moment, she felt her own Essence surge through her, as her golden light mixed with the green light of Freyr. “Look behind you!” her brother told her.  
A stalk began to grow, then buds began to form, then they opened to reveal a nine-petaled wildflower. Freyr grinned. “That was not me!”

Freyja stared as her creation, stark white against the green fields. Subtle silver veins ran along the interior of its petals. He breathed in its fragrance, glad it did not smell like metal or battlefields.

“You get to name the species. It’s completely unique to Vanaheim. I am still holding out hope for you as a fertility figure!” Freyja laughed. “You love spectacle, but sometimes you just have to step back and appreciate…” Freyja did exactly this, standing up and taking three steps away from the flower. Another grew where she had once sat. She sat in the field again. She marched around the field. She skipped around the… you get the idea. Whjerever she went, more of these beautiful flowers grew.

“They’re following you!” Freyr teased. Squealing, Freyja ran down to the beach. She fully expected them to do a song and dance and maybe literally follow her. She had seen doves and falcons playing tag earlier when Feryr forced her away from prospecting.

“I will have to reflect on that,” Freyja said aloud, in response to the question on naming. “Nothing has struck me yet.”

“Bye, Lady!” one flower told her, as she stepped onto the sand.

“Now I have changed terrain,” she said mockingly. “Care to follow me now?” she asked, as she stepped closer to the sea.  
The flowers did not, but Freyr did. “Excellent job!” he commended, hugging her back. She tackled him to the sand and rolled off of him. Spitting sand out of his mouth, he got back to his feet.

“I need to tell Njord what I have just done!” Freyja said excitedly, trotting off towards the water.

“Wait up!” her brother called. “I still havne’t told you all about the amber you found. You might want to know this!” Freyr ran after his sister, who was already a hundred paces ahead of him. Waist deep, she halted and waited for him. Freyr walked cautiously and deliberately all the time.

“Ahead of our current position, there is a bed of oysters who are willing to offer themselves up for breakfast,” she informed him.

“Wow, now, you talk to fish?” he teased.

“Mollusks live such a simple existence,” she answered back, drawing out a golden dagger. “They shall get served, per their final requests!” A small knife lay near Freyr’s feet.

“What am I to do with this?” he asked.

“It is a weapon if you would like to help me procure these,” she offered.

“You always bathe in the sea with weapons?” he asked.

Freyja nodded. “You can never be too careful. What if you weren’t in Vanaheim?” Freyr looked puzzled, picking up the knife behind him.  
“These grey ones are defenseless, but the black ones will put up a fight if you aren’t careful,” Freyja advised.

“You’ve done this before?” he asked, not sure which way to hold the knife. “Which taste better?” he asked, trembling and fafraid that Freyja would tell him the black tasted the best.

“I would avoid the red ones your first time out. These will likely attack you.” Freyja’s advice cooled the water around him.

Freyr watched his sister as she submerged, then sliced her dagger through the water with such speed that she stunned and knocked out six oysters at once. Blood pooled in a cloud around them. Freyr closed his eyes. “For Odin!” she called. The blood disappeared.

“I am not as strong as you,” Freyr managed, now that it was safe to open his eyes. “Try to knock out this grey-shelled guy here.”

She had pointed to a large oyster about a foot and a half ahead of him. She was busy carving an aquamancer’s rune into one of the nearby gemstones. She placed the makeshift runestone on a chain of seaweed and tossed it to him.

“An improvised amulet to help you stay under,” she told him. Freyja then smiled at him.

“I’ll be by your side as you do this. You can do it!”

“Deeds and battles in your name,” Freyr told his sister. “For your breakfast!” Freyr put on his Laguz bind-rune necklace and its power flowed through him. He was surrounded by an aura of blue light. “For Freyja!” he called, plunging forward into the water.  
Suddenly, the thought of commiting murder seemed more appealing to him. Freyja flashed an underwater smile, and moved out of the way, nudging him encouragingly.


	4. Chapter 4

He extended his dagger, still lunging forward, while trying to stab the ocean floor. He just couldn’t bring himself to the low level of killing an innocent creature that had done him no harm. His blade clanged off a loose rock and returned to his hand.  
Surfacing, he wiped his eyes. “Did I catch it?” he asked, with an innocent grin. Freyja, still working below him, reached up and tickled his foot. He wasn’t sure what to make of the gesture. It was clear that she had way more stamina than he did. The seawater seemed to drain his strength.  
“You can stay under forever,” he called down, as she filled a second platter past capacity. A neat little line of catches formed near the waterline. He tried again to strike, but ended up flinging sand in Freyja’s face. She shook her head, spitting it out.  
Freyr thought he had failed, crit-missing again. “Keep trying,” she advised, this time grabbing his slender hand. He closed his eyes, and somehow when she touched him, he felt the foreign element had accepted him. It was now easier to open them.  
With her free hand, Freyja slashed her sword through the water in front of him. It moved in graceful arcs as she demonstrated. She shrank the size of her blade so they could clang together.  
“Straight down,” she called, as the crossed swords struck the sea bed again, and this time they struck pay dirt. In this case, pay dirt sent a cloud of crimson blood drifting around the blades.  
“At least we didn’t miss,” she stated, as Freyr tried to swat the discolored water away. His blade came loose from Freyja’s and a neighboring oyster grunted.  
“Do that again!” Freyja urged.  
“I offer myself to you, Freyr. Finish me off,” it told him.  
He extended his dagger, still lunging forward, while trying to stab the ocean floor. He just couldn’t bring himself to the low level of killing an innocent creature that had done him no harm. His blade clanged off a loose rock and returned to his hand. 

Surfacing, he wiped his eyes. “Did I catch it?” he asked, with an innocent grin. Freyja, still working below him, reached up and tickled his foot. He wasn’t sure what to make of the gesture. It was clear that she had way more stamina than he did. The seawater seemed to drain his strength.  
“You can stay under forever,” he called down, as she filled a second platter past capacity. A neat little line of catches formed near the waterline. He tried again to strike, but ended up flinging sand in Freyja’s face. She shook her head, spitting it out.

Freyr thought he had failed, crit-missing again. “Keep trying,” she advised, this time grabbing his slender hand. He closed his eyes, and somehow when she touched him, he felt the foreign element had accepted him. It was now easier to open them. 

With her free hand, Freyja slashed her sword through the water in front of him. It moved in graceful arcs as she demonstrated. She shrank the size of her blade so they could clang together.  
“Straight down,” she called, as the crossed swords struck the sea bed again, and this time they struck pay dirt. In this case, pay dirt sent a cloud of crimson blood drifting around the blades.  
“At least we didn’t miss,” she stated, as Freyr tried to swat the discolored water away. His blade came loose from Freyja’s and a neighboring oyster grunted.  
Njord figured, “My point exactly. Where that came from is a mystery.” She had not lost track of any of her other treasures; the gold nuggets still lay exposed, even though the waves had plenty of opportunities to bury them. 

Freyja paused to make sure her brother was paying extra attention. She revealed Freyja stared at her father in disbelief. She also thought back to the previous evening’s events. Maybe she had swallowed too much seawater during the twilight, but she couldn’t recall seeing a tree even fall over, let alone die. Freyja walked dreamily back towards shore as her brother watched her.

Njord interjected, “She’s in a trance right now. Do not disturb!” He crouched down in some seaweed while Freyr could stand up. She had let go of his hand to tend the fires which were now blazing brightly and fixing the morning meal. 

Not long after, Freyja let out a wolf howl and Njord walked the rest of the way in. “Marvelous job!” Njord critiqued. Freyr wasn’t so sure. He had been given one lone oyster by his sister, the one that he had helped slay. Their father asked if she had landed the first blow.

The maiden shook her head, after a long silence. Freyr wasn’t exactly proud of what he had done. He made a move to throw the dagger back into the water, but it returned to him, landing near his feet.  
“Ach! Vanir weapons!” he cursed. Freyja wisely said nothing. Their father nodded. “I wish to talk about the amber instead.” To this, Njord also nodded to his son.  
her palm, with the gold still inside. “It’s drawn to me for some reason! Gold and gems both…” 

Freyr stared down in wonder. “You managed to hold onto the gold and me and everything else?”  
“I have always wondered why treasure hunting is so easy for you myself,” Njord added, eating his last oyster. “Ah, life’s mysteries… I wish I had Figg’s council…”  
Freyja folded her arms. “I’ve got an idea. How about we test out your latest creation, father?” 

“You must have gone deep-sea diving, sister… in Aegir’s waters!” Freyr whispered, staring down at the beautiful objects nestled firmly in her hand. “These are brighter than anything you’ve shown me from the rivers and lakes,” he continued. “Are you going to take me to some deep cavern somewhere? The gods know you love those!” The young lady shook her head. 

“No mining today,” she stated, to Freyr’s relief. “I made these!” 

“How did you… come again?” her brother asked, now looking even more intently at the objects in her hand. “How?” 

“Frigg probably already knows about my new power,” Freyja resigned. 

“Maybe she is still asleep, and hasn’t seen her tapestries,” Freyr mused. This knowledge his sister kept was strictly given out on a need-to-know basis. 

“I suppose you’ll be making a golden city before long…” Freyr moaned. “Frigg already caved in on those lamé drapes…” 

“Aren’t they delightful? And yes, the ship, I mean, city, will be named Sessrumnir, the Hall of Many Seats, and it will be grand enough to even rival Odin’s masterwork, Valhalla.”  
Freyr sighed, but he still listened. “Where would you put this Sessrumnir place, if you could build it?” 

“Why, Vanaheim has plenty of room! You don’t know how big your homeworld is until you’ve explored it!” Now Freyr really wanted to groan. 

“What made you think, Sess-of-all-those-names-whatever-you-said?” 

“Sessrumnir? Sounds like an awesome name! So does Folksvanger, by the way. Which do you think I should use?” 

“Folks-what?” Freyr asked, spitting sand out of his mouth. 

“Folksvanger, duh!” she chided. “The People’s Battlefield! Why not?” 

“Both of these are hard to pronounce,” said Freyr. “Why not come up with something like Greenfield? 

“Boring!” Freyja sang. “That’s waaaay too boring! Come on! If you’re going to fashion a realm, make it memorable!” 

Their father smiled. "Your powers work as two sides of the same coin, and you are starting to see that now, Freyr, whether you like it or not."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Njord tells the twins of a legendary sea passage between Vanaheim and Asgard. Freyja jumps at the chance to see if the rumors are true, dragging her brother with her. What trouble can she cause for him?

“My sister is strange. She’ll go swimming in the sea at night without any clothes on…”

“Oh, you’re the strange one, always so quiet and contemplative,” she argued. “I’m pretty standard amongst the Vanir…” 

“Who are you kidding, Freyja? We both know you’re just as different as me!” This mirthful argument carried on well into the morning, and Njord laughed as he surfaced from his reverie. 

“This is why I love Vanaheim,” he sighed.

“I’ve saved you some oysters, father!” Freyja shouted, tossing them at him. 

“Ouch!” Njord winced, as they bounced harmlessly off his beard. Freyr didn’t think it was funny. “Frigg!” he blurted out suddenly. 

Freyja passed her father the amber she’d collected. “Hmmm,” Njord muttered, turning it over in his hands. “Marvelously light, this is!” 

“Maybe it drifted in from Asgard,” Freyja guessed. 

“A sea route to Asgard is only a legend, little one. The sea is mighty cold once you sail past Alfheim. Out Midgard-way, it is even more dangerous. It is frigid and fraught with icebergs out beyond the Summer Sea.” 

This speech stimulated Freyja’s sense of adventure. Her father even heard her sing as she listened to him. “Valder-ee, valder-ah, I want to see if it can be done…” 

“I’ll even bring the ship down here so it can be finished.” 

Stepping onto the dry sand, she leaned her head down and concentrated hard. The pent-up energy inside her released, and bright light issued from her hands.   
The near-complete vessel followed close behind, landing on the sand nearby. Poor Njord looked as if he was about to fall over. “Remarkable!” he mouthed. Freyr groaned.

“How come my magic doesn’t get recognized?” he asked. Their attention soon turned to the ship. It was still upside-down. Her father wished he had brought that big lump of gold with him. He had a solution. A living metal detector! 

“I think my sis can detect treasure anywhere, even hiding in trees or underground,” Freyr remarked. “You might be able to use her tears in the meantime.”

Njord scoffed, “You know about that?” Freyr told him he’d say nothing to the Aesir, but he wasn’t so sure.

“I saw nothing,” he lied. At least she didn’t make any more of them. 

Freyja pressed the gold in her hands, making ultra-thin bars out of it. “How did you…”

The child answered, “This is 24-karat, and I know that because it’s the easiest to work with.” The bars were fastened to the outside of the hull to make a decorative pattern. “Very nice, father,” she complimented. 

“I need to teach you how to use it before I can give it to you in good conscience. It is made of wood. Albeit it is oak wood, but it isn’t meant to take abuse. It’s a mode of transportation, not a suit of armor.” 

Freyr was glad of this warning. He rode along during the tutorials, and the vessel was big enough to fit the three comfortably. 

Freyr enjoyed the lessons and the calm waters, but Freyja always had her eyes fixed beyond the horizon.

One day, Aegir’s stormy influence came too close to Vanaheim’s shores, and the wind intensified. Freyr tried to hold onto whatever he could, but eventually succumbed to the endless motion, and fell overboard.

Without a second thought, his sister sprang over the side and shot down towards her brother, stooping like a falcon in flight. Seizing him tightly around the waist, she launched herself upwards, and the pair broke the turbulent surface. 

Freyr clung tight to the maiden, who was proving herself to be quite adept in water. 

“Aegir!” she shouted to the restless ocean. “What do you want with my brother?” The sea did not reply. It only heaved. 

“Freyja…” he tried to protest, but water filled his mouth and nose. She leaned in close as if to kiss him, but he recoiled, slipping beneath the surface instead.

“We are now on a battlefield, brother, whether you like it or not,” the maiden replied, still clutching Freyr around the waist. He didn’t like the sound of her sister’s words. 

He gulped air when they bobbed above the surface convinced he might not make it, but Freyja thought otherwise. “Vanir weren’t meant to drown. You’re the son of a sea god,” she told him. Many people in your realm will share the same abilities.” 

“My realm?” Freyr asked.

“I have forseen that you shall rule over Alfheim just as I obtain Sessrumnir, but this won’t happen unless you listen to me. Straight down on three.”

“Are you out of your mind?” the child of the forest asked. Freyja placed a finger over his mouth and hauled him down. 

"You didn’t even count to three, he thought.

"But that is because you argued with me… again… she bantered. 

Far out! he thought. Aegir’s realm is far more peaceful than I expected! The dark green water hid many things via seaweed and dappled light. Freyja still kept a firm grip, telling him not to let go. Still, he felt more comfortable when they were together. 

“You deserve some of Aegir’s mead after the courage you just showed,” she teased. “I think it’s kept in the fourth cavern on the left, steady, got it, good.” 

Sea wights laughed as they swam past. Freyja moved like a mermaid while Freyr swam like a log. “Here’s the place,” she motioned. “Land entrance is the one we…”

They surfaced inside an open cavern. As open as a cavern could be. They were met by humid air and the sound of distant thunder above.

Freyr clambered onto the damp stone, gasping. “At least the storm can pass over us.” 

Freyja still sat in the water, listening hard. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see a faint glimmer of firelight ahead. 

“That is not possible,” Freyr said, skeptically. 

“Is it possible to make a forest out of a seed? Then it’s possible for fire to burn here, with magic.” The cavern appeared unoccupied. She couldn’t hear footsteps or anything resembling them. 

“I am afraid of the dark,” Freyr admitted. “And tight spaces,” he added. Freyja hauled out of the sheltering water to join him. 

“We get the mead and then get out,” she instructed. 

“Of all the times you forget your weapons,” the peaceful brother chided. “Let’s see you try and be sneaky.”

“You’re on,” Freyja bet. They tiptoed together through the cavern.

“I can hear your breath in the dark,” Freyja scolded, squeezing his hand to quiet him. Fear had many sounds. Freyja still pressed forward, towards the light. 

“Oh, the air is drier here, so a fire could start,” Freyr whispered logically. He shivered in the damp coldness. As his sister marched on, dragging him, he held on tightly, his fist almost digging into her back. She had to fight through the annoyance. 

They emerged out of a cramped tunnel, into the opening with the firelight. A hearth blazed in the center of the rom, as they looked around. It was a store room. Several barrels leaned up against gthe stone walls. 

“These are undefended!” Freyja marveled, investigating one. Her eyes brightned as she gestured. The lid flew off and set itelf down noiselessly. It was filled to the brim with golden mead. Freyr gasped in awe. 

“Don’t do it,” Freyr warned. 

“Dive into the barrel? Of course…” In her own effort of restraint, Freyja clutched the wall, and something flew out towards her. It clattered to the floor, noisily. 

Freyr cursed, under his breath. “What was that?” 

“I don’t know,” Freyja affirmed. 

“Did you make it fly out of the wall?” her brother asked. 

“What is it?” the young lady asked. Freyr leaned down to pick it up. He had to hold it in both hands. He needed help identifying it. 

“The largest lapidary sapphire I’ve ever seen,” Freyja gawked. 

“It isn’t shiny, though,” Freyr begged to differ. “You don’t want that.” 

“Although this is rough rock, if you polish it…” Freyr hung his head. He never suspected he was going on a treasure hunt. He should have known better. Crashing into a second barrel, he stumbled, dropping the stone. Freyja swooped down to pick it up. 

When she did this, she feltthe cavern floor start to move beneath them. The tremor was slight, but did not phase her. Still holding the stone, she moved towards the center of the room. The tremors became more violent, to the point where Freyr could feel them. 

“What do we do now?” the forest god asked.   
Freyja dropped the stone on the ground. “I don’t think the wall liked that.” she remarked.   
The rumbling eased to its previous point, only perceivable by Freyja now. “I don’t think I can stick it back in the wall. Darn it!” 

“How did it get out in the first place?” Freyr asked, in wonder. 

“No idea,” Freyja told truthfully, with a conspiratorial smile. 

“That brick of gold wasn’t there, either,” Freyr informed her. Freyja’s eyes were drawn to whatever made him trip earlier. 

Staring down at it, Freyja wiped her brow. “Hmmm…what would happen if…” 

“The cavern might collapse!” Freyr exclaimed, still afraid. “Try offering the sapphire back to Aegir by tossing it in the open mead barrel,” her brother suggested.

“Me?” Freyja winced, knowing she’d have to pick up the stone again. “Here goes.”

Leaning over, she heaved it over her head, then slung it from the center of the room. It caromed off of three walls before landing in the barrel.

Now, the walls began to shake as more items fell loose from them. 

“Oh, no!” they both said in unison. Freyja tried the same tactic with each stone that popped out of the wall. A huge ruby, emerald, amethyst… they all thundered and hissed when offered up by her wicked tosses. 

“It’s not working,” she admitted, as the whole room undulated around them. “I was just trying to be humble and not take everything…” she heaved. 

Freyr patted her back contemplatively. “May I try something?” he offered. He tried to pick up the gold, but it was too heavy to lift. “Darn it!” 

“What if I give it to you instead?” she advised. “It’s easier for me to lift for some reason.” She demonstrated her strength, then laid the brick in his arms. It was so heavy that he nearly crumpled to the ground. “If I make it back to Vanaheim, that is it. I will be training more with do. I need to run more or somehting…” 

He looked exhausted from the journey, and now Freyja was about to ask him to do something he thought was impossible. She wanted him to toss the gold bar in himself. 

“This is going to take courage, brother, but you can do this,” she tried to inspire. She helped him back to his feet. The barrel was ten feet fall, and Freyr was only six. A cold sweat dripepd off his forehead. 

Freyja stamped her feet and clapped her hands. She got in position behind him as he fell over, extering all his inner strength. The bar spun end over end, catching the edge of gthe barrel. 

Freyja looked on nervously as it teetered. “Don’t you dare come back out!” Freyr shouted. 

He hacked his sister as he thrust his arms up in the air to emphasize his piont. After long concentration, the bar of gold obeyed him, falling into the barrel, to both their relief. 

The trembling ceased. 

“I had to give you payback for all of those bruises I had gotten in bed with you,” Freyr laughed. 

“It was long overdue. Good job!” It was advisable not for them to take anything else out of that room, and Freyja reluctantly walked out, brushing herself off. Freyr gripped her arm for guidance out of the cavern, and warmth filled her. 

He touched the bruise, yet Freyja did not wince in pain. “Keep it there,” she begged as he started to move his hand. She sat on the edge of the entrance, Freyr behind her with spread fingers.   
A warm passionate heat coursed through both of them. When Freyja looked down, her bruise was gone. “That’s amazing, and you didn’t even have to use water,” she commended. 

“It’s like the new flesh grew back,” Freyr admired. 

“That’s one of your greatest gifts,” his sister told him. “I still expect to see you in the training fields tomorrow morning. You can show me how you did that...” Freyja teased. 

“If you’ll show me how you are able to summon treasure…” Freyr agreed. Freyja smiled. 

“We could bribe the Asgardians for anything, with our powers combined.” Freyja asserted. 

“I hope you don’t start any unnecessary wars,” her brother cautioned. 

“We’ll just have to see!” she said excitedly, now pulling him into the water and back out the entrance of the cavern. When they surfaced, the sea was calm and the storm had passed, giving way to blue sky. 

“Let’s head back to Vanaheim before the Asgardian sun burns me out in the open like this,” they both said. 

“Aye, aye!” the ship moved, steering a homeward course.


	6. Chapter 6

Freyr spent most of the uneventful voyage home below decks, leaving his sister the task of guiding the both of them. Not requiring sleep at night did have its advantages. Under the misty twilight sky, she sighted the First Fjord of Vanaheim and rousted her brother, who staggered out. 

Looking in a hand mirror, Freyja could not believe her eyes. Her brother was no longer green in the face, as she had expected him to appear. Letting go of the wheel briefly, she gave him a bear hug. 

With a delirious expression, Freyr stared at his sister, who was not mad at him or concerned about him. They could see white cliffs in the distance, lit by moonlight and faerie lanterns. The scents of numerous wildflowers drifted towards them on the breeze. These aromas were familiar to Feryr, and his wooziness eased. Enjoying the moment with his ssister, he sighed, and the sea calmed even further around them. 

“There’s a connection between you and serenity,” Freyja mused. “I haven’t put my finger on it, yet…” 

Freyr thought that Njord was just happy to see them. He never suspected he had anything to do with the sea. Freyja let go of the wheel and patted his back, staring off into the distance. 

‘I have never seen you so reflective before…” he wondered in amazement. He hardly even recognized his sister now.

“The edge of the fjord…” Freyr interrupted, taking the wheel himself. The vessel lurched. “You pick now to go into trance!” For all he knew, she could have been in tance all evening. 

Freyja stood motionless on deck next to him, while Freyr was left to grab the wheel with both hands. He had to focus to keep his fingers from twitching. How did Njord and his daughter learn how to do this? Freyr suddenly wished he had not been absent for so many lessons. The smooth wood proved challenging for sweaty hands to hold. 

“Njord!” he called out loud. “I am trying to remember… help me!” 

“What are you trying to remember?” his father’s calm voice answered back. Freyr stared over the starboard railing, not expecting Njord to actually be speaking to him. 

“I-I am sorry for not noticing you. I thought you favored Freyja and wouldn’t ever…” Njord shook his head, waving his blonde hair frantically. Foam stirred around him. His son clutched the wheel for support, as he feared Njord would whip the sea into a frenzy. The sea god just laughed, choosing not to summon a storm. 

Freyr had leaned in close to the wheel and discovered its ornate design and its runic inscriptions. None of the spokes had them, but the middle did. Meanwhile, as he admired these, Freyja began to chant. She sang a wordless chant that drifted on the breeze. 

Njord said nothing. He stared up at the pair of children who were growing into their own before his eyes. The music inspired Njord’s son to hold the wheel tighter, and he had no desire to steer the vessel into the rocks.   
After listening to a few more bars of the song, Njord smiled at his son. He had another speech to offer up about the song after a measure of rest. 

“This is a test. Don’t let it distract you, for Freyja is on her own quest now,” his father advised. “The runes are protective magic, but try not to turn left now.” Facing Njord direction, over the port side of the vessel, the white cliff was within ten feet of Freyr’s position. 

Oblivious of her surroundings, Freyja continued to sing, while Freyr’s white knuckles lost all remaining traces of color. He had the urge to offer one of his sister’s treasures to his father, but knew not to disturb her whatsoever. For all he knew, she could be seeing visions of the future, or could she perceive external threats to Vanaheim?   
He never expected Njord to stay alongside the ship during the rest of their voyage. It was difficult for him to anticipate waves, but other than this, Freyr remained in a state of inner calm. Looking into his father’s deep eyes gave the young god peace of mind, though he still remained unsteady on his feet. 

“Sometimes drinking mead balances out an unsteady pair of legs,” Njord teased. “I would have snuck into those barrels…” he sighed, figuring out what his children had been up to. “Obviously, the gods had other ideas for your quest. I was not involved in your encounter with Aegir.” 

“I never met Aegir,” Freyr wanted to argue, but Njord placed a hand on top of the water, silencing him. 

“You never saw his face, but you met his opposition,” Njord begged to differ. There was a clear difference still in Freyr’s mind. “Aegir had home court advantage, quite literally. I am surprised you two made it out with little consequence.” 

If it weren’t for his sister, he could have been squashed by a collapsing cavern, or shamed by the Aesir. He wasn’t sure which fate was worse. 

Njord corrected him, telling him Aegir was neither Aesir or Vanir. At the mention of the name, the waters began to grow turbulent around them. Njord gasped, and Freyr fell to his knees, closing his eyes. He prayed his sister would snap out of trance…


End file.
